He glances over his shoulder. “Who?”
“He has a red tie and he’s standin’ next to a woman in a shiny silver dress.”
After a few moments Oliver says, “That’s Troy Wickerson and his wife, Janette.”
“I don’t like the way he looks at me.”
Oliver returns his attention to the bar and signs his tab. “Wicky’s not a bad guy.”
My stomach gets tight. “Did you say Wicky?”
“Yeah. Troy Wickerson. He graduated from Yale the year before your brother and me.” He puts down the pen and picks up his copy of the bill. “As you put it the other night, ‘It’s been a hoot and a half.’?”
Edie’s married lover is standing next to his wife and picturing me naked. I hate him. I hate him for the way he’s looking at me, and I feel sick and panicky, pinned by Wicky’s eyes. Oliver starts to turn away and I grab the sleeve of his jacket. “Don’t leave me here.” And I hate him for the way he treated Edie the last night of her life.
Oliver puts a finger beneath my chin and lifts my gaze to his. “What’s wrong with you?”
Wicky’s “you make me hard” texts race through my head. He hadn’t killed her, but he’d pushed her to the edge. I suck in a breath like I’m coming up for oxygen. “I have to go.” I uncurl my fingers from his sleeve. “Where’s my coat?” I step around Oliver and take off toward the entrance. I swear Wicky’s stare follows me, and a shudder runs up my spine.
My private cell phone and coat-check ticket are in my clutch. I stop. I don’t have it. I left it on the bar. I don’t want to go back in there, but I can’t leave.
“Lose something?”
I look up at Oliver moving toward me, holding my sparkly elephant clutch. “Thank you.” My hands shake as I take it from him. “Somebody should punch his face.” If he hadn’t driven Edie to the edge, maybe she’d still be here and I’d be in heaven.
“What’s going on, Edie?” He grabs my wrist.
“I’m leavin’.” I pull away hard and open the little purse. “I’m not stayin’ here. He makes me sick.”
“What the fuck did you do?” My sleeve is pushed up and he’s staring at my bare wrist.
“None of your business.” I push the sleeve down to cover the ugly scar. “You don’t like me, remember?” I get my ticket and move to the men standing at the entrance. “We’ll get that right to you,” one of them says, and walks a short distance to a locked door.
Oliver joins me and asks, “What are your plans?”
“Call a cab.” I pull out my phone. “I just moved to the Book Cadillac. Maybe I’m close enough to walk.”
“Not in those shoes.”
“I’ll get an Uber.”
He takes my shoulders and makes me look at him. “I’ll bring my car around for you.”
“That’s real sweet and all, but I don’t want to drive your car.”
“That’s good, because I wasn’t offering. I’ll take you to the Book.”
“You?”
“Marvin and Clarice need to be told.”
Yeah, that would be the right thing to do. “I’m not goin’ back in there.” I pull out my phone. “I’ll text.”
He swears under his breath, then says, “I’ll find them and slip out the back.” He pulls out his phone and asks for my number so he can text me when he’s out front. I give it to him, and he raises his face to the ceiling. “God, you’ve always been more trouble than you’re worth. I can’t believe I volunteered for this.” He returns his gaze to mine. “Give me ten minutes.”
20
I’m starvin’.” I toss my coat and clutch on a white velvet lounge chair.